Author's Note ::
Booth is dead, Brennan traveled to Philadelphia to attend the funeral that his parents paid for. Brennan, Angela, and the rest of the team stay in hotel rooms. Could take place between season 3 and 4. Booth could be dead or this could be during the time everyone thought he was dead. The details don't really matter. This songfic is based on Brennan's reflections.
Possible tissue warning. It also really helps to listen to the song before and after or during, just so you get the idea. I wrote and edited this in a matter of 30 minutes so be kind to my errors! And my apologies for using so many pronouns. Angel – Sarah McLachlan
She lies curled up in fetal position on the edge of the bed. Her cheeks are marked by frozen tears. The baggy sweatshirt isn't making her warm. She was too tired to change out of the nice pants or take off the runny makeup. She lays still, her tears falling down her cheek, off her ear and into her messy hair. The pain rolls up her stomach. She winces, fighting down the anger, frustration, regret, and sadness. The tears are a steady stream now.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
She's angry that they'll never be anything more. She's his Bones and he is her Booth. And then there was the line. She recognized his flirting. She felt the tension, too. Ignored it like he did, thinking it would just go away. If she could do it again, she'd take the chance. He changed her. His death changed her. He made her smile and live life on the edge. She really cared what he thought of her. He made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.
There's always one reason
To feel not good enough
Nothing else in the world matters. She's screwing up her job but she doesn't care about getting fired. Her apartment is a mess but it doesn't matter as long as she can sleep on the couch. She always thought that useless nighttime television would lull her to sleep. Now it just mingles with her silent breathing. She's never been a dramatic crier, never really mourned loudly.
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
The funeral was endless. She stared at his shining black casket. Smiled politely at the relatives she had never met. But they knew her, said he talked about her nonstop. Her hands hung by her side as she stood stoically in the wet grass. The sun slowly rising, all of her co-workers apologizing, as if they knew how she felt about him.
Moving only slightly to find the remote, she locates it under the mass of foreign sheets. Slowly propping herself against the standard-issue hotel headboard, she begins channel surfing. The glow of the television hurts her puffy eyes. Nothing interests her; she can't even recognize what she is watching. Nothing comprehends. Booth is gone. He will never again utter her name like it's his last breath. Tempe.
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
She's lost herself in the scattered thoughts. The one constant thing in her mind is the image of Booth. He's standing there smiling at her, with his hands in his suit pocket. Now she sees his back. He's yelling at someone, protecting her. Then he's looking at her sadly, his forehead wrinkled before he takes her into a hug. The hug in her mind is shallow and cold compared to the real thing. The real hug she'll never feel again. Her breath is caught in her chest as a new set of tears begin.
She closes her eyes, feeling his arms wrap around her. He's sitting on the bed next to her, whispering in her ear. In the dark cold hotel room, she smiles. She is warm, the shivers have stopped. It's the eye of the hurricane, the eerily calm silence. Her logical brains overpowers her dream, Booth is gone. Nobody wants to be pitied, but no one wants to feel this. The loss of a loved one that never was. He will plague her mind forever, the what-ifs swirling. He is gone, but she will still compare him to every other boyfriend she will have.
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
She sits up quickly, swinging her feet off the bed. The wastebasket is right next to her in case she needs to vomit again. Placing her elbows on her knees, she rests her head in her hands before running her fingers through her hair. Opening her eyes, she sees the blurry image of feet, sprinkled in cold tears. She raises her hand to wipe away the tears that have already fallen. Another wave of nausea hits and she doubles over, her face contorting into a grim smile. The regret and loss is still sinking in, weeks after his death.
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there
Angela knocks at the door. It echoes through the lonely room. She slowly stands up. The glare from the street lamp hurts her eyes that have adjusted to the total darkness. Crossing her arms, she opens the door and looks up at Angela through her wet eyelashes.
"Did you love him? Angela whispers. Brennan doesn't speak, just allows the tears fall and slowly nods her head.
"Oh sweetie," And Angela hugs her. There's nothing in her voice, but pity.
A/N ~
So here's some more babble from yours truly, even after that insanely long beginning author's note. I have so many ideas and absolutely NO TIME!!! It's completely dreadful. If anyone loves to write but is having a difficult time coming up with ideas, comment! I have so many ideas and no time. I have at least… 15 Word documents that are simply lists of ideas for certain story ideas. I have barely have time to write anymore, so if anyone needs a partner or muse or whatever, just leave a note!!